Page 67 of The Blood that Binds Us

I spit at his feet. “You make me sick.”

“Get out of my sight.”

Hurtling myself up the stairs and into my room, I slam my door shut and lock it with magic. It won’t be enough to keep Sin out if he decides he wants in, but it will keep the handmaidens out. I throw myself onto the bed and wonder if any of Thatcher’s family was watching from that crowd today.

Iam left with two options. I could sneak down to Cathal’s cell again and offer him a little violent…persuasionof my own, but the risk of Sin finding out is too high, too dangerous. He’ll have someone watching his cell at every hour now, I’m sure. Which leaves me with the second option: I play along while I look for another way out.

Tonight, the Black Art is hosting a dinner with Sterling and his son to ensure they are in agreement about the kingdom’s very public execution yesterday morning. Locking in an alliance with the overseers of trade means gaining their troops, and ultimately, a faster elimination of Legion, and victory in the war Sin plans on declaring soon after their demise. Thatcher’s death will likely motivate Legion to attack sooner—Cathal’s stand-in leaders no doubt using the event as means to fearmonger their soldiers into fighting before they’re appropriately equipped and ready.

My dress is a pale shade of blue, its color reminiscent of hydrangea flowers, with a ruched waist and flowy bell sleeves that hang off my shoulders. River added a swash of gold to my eyelids and painted my lips the color of blood. Fitting for the occasion, I suppose. She left my long hair unbound to fall freely down my back in soft waves.

I clear my mind of thoughts of Thatcher and my family and how they’ll be reduced to pawns in the kingdom’s fight for civil domination. Right now, my focus needs to be on finding Cosmina and securing her freedom. If fighting alongside the kingdom is the only way to free her, I’ll help earn the Langston’s support now and strap on the armor as I charge into battle.

I wipe my tears, smearing them into nothingness, and walk downstairs in the pretty dress.

* * *

Wide stretched smiles erupt across the table as two servants dressed in matching linen smocks place generously loaded plates in front of each of us. Sin sits at the head of the long dining table, wearing a burgundy coat of weathered print with a flared hem and laced-up chest. His usual free-flowing hair is tied back with a small leather tie.

Sterling sits across from Sin at the opposite end of the table. Bennett’s father appears close in age to Dusaro, but his graying hair and creased forehead indicate a life spent in negotiation and settling disputes. He wears a navy-blue tailcoat with the letterLwoven into the chest pocket in fine silver thread.

Bennett sits across from me, dressed in a similar blue jacket with silver embroidery as his father’s. Dusaro sits to Sin’s left next to Bennett, and on my side of the table, Aldred sits between Ileana and me. Sin briefed me before the meal on the role I am to play tonight. He told the Langstons I have family that have been caught in Legion cross hairs, and am aiding the kingdom with my proficient, yet nothing extraordinary, mage abilities. And being an old friend of the Black Art, I am trusted to be present during the dinner while they discuss strategies of war.

The first half of the meal is an exchange of casual conversation concerning family and mutual friends. Bennett occasionally asks me about my life in Innodell, to which I lie through my teeth, not willing to share anything personal with someone of his virtues. I keep my attention on the Langstons, ignoring the heated stare Sin gives me every time Bennett speaks to me directly, monitoring my responses like a hawk circling a plump rabbit.

The conversation shifts political after the servants bring in dessert—sweetened egg custard with currants and slivered nuts.

Sin swirls the mead in his glass, then takes a deep pull of the amber drink. “It won’t be long now. They’re impulsive. But what they don’t know is there will be no retreat for them this time. We’ll evacuate the city and meet them head on in Blackreach. We’ll create chokepoints in the city and cut off their points of retreatment. Once they barge through the gates of Blackreach, expecting us to be waiting for them at Scarwood, we’ll lock down the city and move in. And when we’re done, the only thing remaining of Legion will be their ghosts.”

“It’s a good plan, Mr. Langston,” Dusaro chimes. “I’ve fought against Legion many times—their turnover is high, so they’re ghastly inexperienced and flightier than sparrows. We’ll have the element of surprise on them, and as soon as they realize the trap they’ve walked into, they’ll panic. Picking them off will be easy, especially if we have the Langston battalion at our side.”

The Black Art’s father looks polished in a fine black tailcoat and white shirt underneath, his dark hair smooth and shiny, and the few braids in his hair don’t have a strand out of place.Goddess above,the resemblance between Sin and his father is striking, their dark skin equally as smooth, their noses both long and slender, and their narrowed eyes both downturned at the corners.

I corral what remains of my pudding with my spoon while I push my collective away from me and latch onto Sterling’s. His body may display signs of age, but his mind is sharp and calculated, and I don’t sense any nervousness or traces of deceit.

“It’s always an honor to do our part in serving, Your Grace,” Sterling says, wiping his chin with a decorative cloth napkin. “The cost, however, will be extravagant. Is fighting them in the city really the best option when we have open land that isn’t bordered by homes and shops that will surely be destroyed and need to be rebuilt?”

“My Lord, if I may interject,” Aldred addresses Sterling, “Legion is most familiar with fighting on open land. They aren’t accustomed to the cities because they can’t traverse them during the day. They’ll be in uncharted territory to begin with, and I’ve already been compiling plans to stake traps and chokeholds throughout Blackreach. The devastation will be great, but the devastation if we do not do this will be far greater. I’ll see that the residents are relocated to shelters and outposts we have set up. There won’t be civilian casualties, and if we have your support, there will be few casualties of our own.”

Sin thanks his commander for his input, and Dusaro offers Aldred a nod of approval. As the conversation continues to thicken with political jargon, Bennett speaks to me less, and I note hardly anyone asks Ileana to weigh in her opinion. Apparently being mundane makes her opinion less valid than Sin’s. Or perhaps it is simply because she’s a woman that they don’t ask her thoughts.

When the servants return to collect our dishes, I lean across the table towards Bennett and flash him a sweet smile.

“Would you accompany me for an evening stroll, my Lord?”

Bennett grins, revealing a set of white teeth. “It would be my pleasure, my Lady.” Rising from the table, he shoots a sideways glance to a smirking Dusaro. I glance to Sin and find him now entirely focused on Bennett, apparently also noting the exchanged glance between him and his father. Bennett doesn’t seem to notice the warning glare on Sin’s face—a glare I’m not sure how to interpret. Sin shifts his stare to me and sweeps his eyes down my body—his gaze lingering an extra second on my breasts, my waist, my legs—and drags his tongue over his teeth as if he finds me disapproving.

Is there something wrong with how I look?

When I looked in the mirror, I thought my appearance could mistake me for a lady of high stature, but the Black Art’s lingering stare has me questioning if my taste in attire is perhaps not suitable at all.

“Carefulwith my Wren, Mr. Langston,” Sin says, swishing the remainder of the mead around in his glass.

I arch an eyebrow, but Sin doesn’t look away from Bennett, his eyes dropping to the hand he places on the small of my back as he guides us out of the dining hall.

MyWren. I’d like to shovemyfist up his ass.

We head outside to the northern courtyard and walk along the stone path through the castle’s gardens. The hedge’s pink and purple flowers have a faint shimmer to them as the droplets from the afternoon rain reflect the silvery beams of moonlight. Bennett glances up at the sky, the faint light casting shadow on one side of his golden-brown hair.

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